God's Invitation: Embracing His Nearness

Day 2: When God Says "I Come" - A Deeper Invitation

Hey friend,

Have you ever felt a quiet moment in the middle of your day when everything seems to pause—the rush slows, the noise fades, and a gentle calm settles over your heart? It's as if someone unseen has stepped closer, drawing near in a way that words can hardly capture. Yet often, those moments slip by unnoticed or are mistaken for fleeting feelings rather than an invitation deeper into connection.

I've been wrestling with a question that I think might resonate with you too: What does it mean when God says, "I come"? How does this simple, powerful declaration change the way we understand His presence in the ordinary functions of daily living?

“My beloved spoke, and said to me: “Rise up, my love, my fair one, And come away. 
Song of Solomon 2:10

Many of us who spend time in prayer and worship long to experience God not as a distant figure but as a close companion who arrives—not just in grand moments but in everyday life. Sometimes it feels like that closeness is hard to grasp or too good to be true, leaving us caught between longing and doubt.

The Heart of God's Declaration

And He said to them, “Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” For there were many coming and going, and they did not even have time to eat. So they departed to a deserted place in the boat by themselves. But the multitudes saw them departing, and many knew Him and ran there on foot from all the cities. They arrived before them and came together to Him.
Mark 6:31

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day
Genesis 3:8

Friend, I want to explore with you the intimate reality behind those two words. God's words, "I come," echo through the entire story of Scripture, setting initiative at the heart of every meaningful encounter between God and humanity. These two words do more than announce an arrival; they carry the weight of a Creator deliberately stepping into human life, not as a distant overseer, but as One actively seeking intimacy and friendship.

Think about this pattern that appears again and again throughout the Bible: God entering the space of ordinary people. In Genesis, Abraham sits at the entrance of his tent when the Lord appears to him—not because Abraham pursued Him, but because the Lord chose to draw near. Jacob, wrestling by the riverbank, finds himself surprised by God's presence, a disruption of isolation that speaks of divine initiative. At Sinai, the Israelite camp shakes only after God descends; in the burning bush, Moses stands on ordinary ground transformed because God "comes down" to call him by name.

Then the Lord appeared to him by the terebinth trees of Mamre, as he was sitting in the tent door in the heat of the day
Genesis 18:1

The holy pattern is clear—God does not wait at a distance for followers to build righteousness tall enough to reach Him. Instead, He steps across thresholds to meet His people where they live.

God is not content to remain aloof, working through intermediaries, or pleased with empty gestures. Quite the opposite. These encounters contrast sharply with images of gods locked behind temple doors or accessible only by exhausting ritual. The God of Scripture interrupts the expected order, seeking face-to-face fellowship, not mere sacrifice. The cry of prophets and psalmists reveals a God who listens and responds, who walks in gardens at dusk and whispers in moments of great need.

"I come" becomes the heartbeat of all true faith—a promise that God's presence arrives before, during, and after every act of devotion.

When Religion Becomes Relationship

When God says, "I come," it overturns the notion of religion as a performance for an absent audience. Authentic relationship replaces formality. Religious practices—prayer, worship, even acts of service—shift from obligation to conversation, from routine gestures to moments of heartfelt exchange.

“If you turn away your foot from the Sabbath, From doing your pleasure on My holy day, And call the Sabbath a delight, The holy day of the Lord honorable, And shall honor Him, not doing your own ways, Nor finding your own pleasure, Nor speaking your own words,
Isaiah 58:13

The Lord’s movements toward humanity offers unexpected comfort: closeness with God is not an achievement, but a response to an invitation already given. We are drawn into a fellowship where intimacy is shaped by mutual delight and salvation in Jesus. The barrier separating holy from ordinary erodes; creativity, hospitality, laughter, and even hardship become opportunities for communion.

Picture this: The relationship is less like a subject awaiting the monarch's distant verdict, and more like a beloved child hearing a parent's footsteps in the hall at night. The air changes, tensions dissolve, and what was once merely dutiful transforms into joyful expectation. Imagine a dance where the music comes not from a faraway band, but from the One who guides every movement—an embrace that welcomes improvisation and celebrates presence over perfection.

The storyline stretches through the lives of people like David, who found God's companionship not just within hallowed walls but beneath open skies. Ruth, gleaning in fields, experienced the God who comes to outsiders and includes them in His harvest. Elijah, hiding in a cave, heard no thunder—just the soft rustle that signals nearness. Each narrative carries a distinct flavor, but the common thread is always His approachability.

The Lived Reality Today

For those of us walking this path today, this movement of God is both inward and outward. Moments of quiet clarity, unexpected peace, or creative inspiration often arrive as subtle evidence of God's initiative. There are times when, beyond structured prayer or church gatherings, a sudden sense of being seen, known, and loved marks the unfolding of inside jokes shared only between close companions.

A mug of coffee steams between your palms as morning breaks quietly over the kitchen sink. The hum of appliances fades into the background when you pause, feeling an inexplicable calm press gently against your hurried thoughts. In that pause, something inside recognizes a peace that didn't start with you—a peace you sense only when God draws close.

During worship, lyrics that once felt repetitive spark sudden insight, as if the words have finally found their home in the soul. The Holy Spirit's unforced warmth moving through the room, a gentle comfort that settles in the heart even before you can name it. Sometimes gratitude for God's nearness spills out quietly—a deep exhale, a hand raised, a tear sliding down the cheek.

A believer, lost in painting or tending a garden, may feel God's delight in their small acts, as though the Maker of stars is smiling at the brushstroke or the sprouting seed. This kind of relationship transforms daily life into a space where the sacred is not confined to the rare, but saturates the everyday.

Living Free in God’s Presence

Experiencing God's "I come" creates a gratitude so profound it quiets any fear of unworthiness. There is freedom: total, boundless, like a courtyard where doors and gates have been flung open and every beloved guest is invited to dance. Intimacy is not an earned privilege or a product of spiritual prowess. It is offered, again and again, by the God who finds joy in coming close—inviting, meeting, and sharing in the adventure and artistry of human living.

When gratitude becomes the posture of our heart, freedom grows quietly, like light spreading across a dark room. In worship, hands lift—sometimes tentatively, sometimes with abandon—not to impress but to respond to love already given. Singing loses its self-conscious edge; the desire to please is replaced by the comfort of being seen before El Roi.

Prayer begins to spill out in everyday language at odd moments—a whispered thanks during traffic, a laugh shared inwardly after a mistake, a prayer sung softly while folding laundry. God feels close whether or not you use the right phrases because you are safely interpreted.

Creative gifts emerge unfiltered; drawing, writing, cooking, or dancing becomes a joyful offering rather than a test to pass and not disappoint God. Serving others comes with lightness—no longer as a way to earn favor, but as a natural overflow of grace received even if unthanked.

Reflection for Your Heart

As you sit with these thoughts, friend, I want to invite you into some gentle reflection:

Recognition: Everyday life weaves together so many small encounters with God's presence. A mundane walk to the corner store turns into Sabbath space when a wave of clarity settles on a lingering question. While reading Scripture, a familiar passage stirs a fresh perspective, making God’s words pulse with new relevance. In the hush between phrases in worship, silence grows full rather than empty; a physical tingle or warmth settles somewhere in your body, evidence of the Comforter beyond explanation.

Response: To respond in the moment is to receive God's nearness as a personal gift. Instead of general thanks, express something specific—"Thank you for loving me when I felt alone," or "Thank you for drawing near as I washed those dishes."

Try this gentle practice:
Name the moment of recognition—"I realized I felt peace walking home."
Express gratitude—"Thank you for being with me in my worry."
Notice the shift—"I went from feeling pressured to relaxed."
Record freedom's form—"I sang aloud—no one was watching, only You."

Questions for Your Journey

1) During a stressful commute, have you ever felt a sudden ease or clarity for no apparent reason? What did you notice in your body or mood? Can you pause and thank God for meeting you there?

2) In a recent worship session, did you sense God's nearness through a song, a scripture, or someone's prayer? How did you respond inwardly? What happened when you expressed gratitude rather than critique or comparison?

3) When serving someone reluctantly, can you recall a moment you realized God was with you? How did noticing His presence shift your motivation?

4) Have you experienced inspiration or joy while engaged in creative work? Can you identify God's invitation in that moment and offer thanks? What new freedom emerges as you create with Him rather than for Him?

The Ongoing Invitation

Now that we can begin to understand the rich meaning behind God's simple yet powerful declaration, "I come," we can live with a new openness to His presence in every part of our lives. This invitation means God is always near, stepping into our moments of joy and struggle, not waiting for us to reach perfection before drawing close.

As we learn to recognize His gentle approach and respond with gratitude, our relationship with God transforms from duty into delight. Each prayer, song, and quiet pause becomes a chance to dance freely in His presence, trusting that we are already welcomed and loved.

Even ordinary days fill with possibility when every moment becomes a new invitation to move freely, grateful in the presence of the One who keeps saying, "I come."

Friend, you are already welcomed. You are already loved. The invitation stands open, waiting for your response.

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.
Revelation 3:20

I'd love to hear from you—have you noticed these gentle moments of God's approach in your own life? What does it look like for you to respond with gratitude in the everyday? Share your reflections in the comments below.